Pink Blush, Pink Stripes
by TrixieKrueger
Summary: Amber runs into a problem back at Anubis House that Jerome is willing to help with. But what are his real motives? And does Millington have something up her sleeve as well? Set before Season 1. Amber centric, Jamber flavored. Rated T for safety. One Shot.


**A/N:** Set sometime before Season 1 before we knew any of the characters.  
**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything.

* * *

"I swear! If my trunks don't arrive here soon I'll—"

With the summer holiday winding down, move in day at Anubis House was upon Amber Millington and she had found herself to be in quite the predicament. She had arrived at the house well before her things and the blonde was still awaiting their arrival. Try as she might, ranting away on the phone wasn't bringing her any closer to finding their location.

Having been through the same conversation twice already, the man at the other end of her crisis-induced-panic was nearing his breaking point. He had been polite enough and had heard her out until now, but he knew she was getting into the thick of her speech. And that just wasn't something he could take sitting through again.

"Miss, I can assure you, I don't know where your belongings are. As I said before, it isn't my job to oversee the location of—"

"What do you mean you don't know where they are?! Do you have _any _idea how hard it is to be fashionable without the perfect accessories or a limited edition…"

And there it was.

He sighed, blocking her out completely. This was going to give him a headache—or worse, he would replay this conversation in his nightmares tonight—if he didn't end this call soon. Her voice started to go all dreamy at her descriptions and he jumped at the opportunity. "Good luck Miss," he rushed out, promptly hanging up and freeing himself from the torture.

"…And _most _importantly a cute pair of…hello? Hellooo?" She brought her phone down to check the screen.

_Call ended_.

"Ugh, _so_ rude," she rolled her eyes. "Of course _you _wouldn't understand the importance of a great wardrobe."

Following a brief pause, her face fell from a look of disgust into a pout. "What do I do now?"

She closed her eyes, slowly repeating her mantra in her mind. _WWVBD? W… W… V… B… D…?_

Clearly she had found her answer when she let out a loud gasp.

"I still have whatever is in my rolling bag!" She threw one hip to the side, tossing her long golden hair over one shoulder and rolling her eyes, "Duh."

She swiftly unzipped the bag, her big blue eyes eager to see what was inside. Under normal circumstances, she would know exactly what was in each piece of luggage down to the designers and garment types. But since her parents had sprung her return to school onto her a few days early, she had packed in haste whilst texting in votes to her favorite reality show. The eldest Millingtons just didn't understand how important that particular elimination had been.

Her eyebrows shot up when she flipped the top open and her things had flown farther across the room as each one was removed from the bag.

Makeup case.

A stack of her favorite teen magazines.

Only the tie and socks to her school uniform.

Curling tongs.

An emergency tube of moisturizer.

Her lucky red heels. _Of course I had to pack those! _She justified in her mind._  
_  
She shot a sideways glance as she pulled out _thankfully _a fair number of undergarments.

Her actions slowed as she removed the last few items sadly and defeated.

Mp3 player.

And finally, just a few odd blouses.

Her sad eyes fixed into space after she thumbed her phone open and frantically dialed once more.

_Ring one_, no answer.

_Ring two_, she began lightly pacing the floor.

A third ring sounded in her ear as she slipped on one of her magazines. She groaned at the newly formed crinkle across her favorite teen idol's face.

The forth ring was cut short as a heavy male sigh came through the phone. "Wha—"

"Daddy! _Tooo-tal_ emergency! I've got nothing to wear and I need an increase on my credit limit to buy something for t—"

"Young lady," he interrupted sternly. "You left here with a cab load of perfectly fine clothes, so much so that you had to call yourself a separate car."

"But Daddy, you don't understand!" He cleared his throat as a warning to her. It did the trick as she started bumbling over her words. "The other cab didn't…I mean, my clothes aren't—"

"I don't care if they're in season or not, Amber. You'll just have to make due. Listen, I've got to go…I'm in an important meeting. Try to do well in your studies this term."

That's how he always ended their calls and she knew she didn't have much time left. "No Daddy wait, listen to me!"

Unfazed by her usual parting pleads, he signed off in true Millington fashion, "Love you, Boo!"

_Click_.

She slumped back down into the chaos of her things scattered all over the floor.

"Aww, why does everyone keep doing that to me?" Her frown deepened as she took a look at everything, "And what did I do to this roommm?"

Mara would freak out if she saw their room in so much disorder. She reached over for one blouse, practically shouting remembering what her father said moments ago.

"Yeah right! As if _any _of my clothes would be out of season!"

* * *

After laying out her makeup by order of importance and spacing out what little clothing she had to put in her wardrobe, Amber was still sulking. She was currently sprawled out face down on her bed, her mp3 player playing softly in her ears. Despite the hours of wearing her lucky heels, her things had not yet arrived and it was far too late in the day for them to make it now. She reasoned that this further misfortune was brought on because her lucky heels didn't match her dress. She should have known better than to try to wear them together really.

A knock rapped on her and Mara's door.

"Go away!" she yelled, muffled by her pillow.

Another knock. This time, much louder. _Ugh, probably Jerome. _She turned her face long enough to address her visitor before resuming her position.

"You can't come in unless you've brought me my limited edition shoes!"

The door swung open anyway.

"Amber, what is all this about? Why on Earth are you lying in the dark?" Trudy flipped the lights on as Amber sat up and pulled her ear buds out. "I haven't heard a word out of you since you've arrived, Deary. Are you feeling alright?"

"Oh Trudy, I'm having the worst day ever!" she whined.

Trudy's face fell into sadness with her, "Oh Sweetie… Here, let me walk you down to supper. Tell me all about it on the way." Amber drug herself off the bed and over to her housemother where she was engulfed in a hug.

The elder of the duo listened in silence as Amber started from the beginning, rambling about her favorite reality show and her driver loading the cab. Trudy would only nod politely when Amber would look over to her. They made it to the middle of the stairs before she finally spoke up.

"Sweetie, what part of this is bad?" she asked hesitantly, not wanting to hurt her feelings.

Amber gave her a look as if the answer was perfectly clear based on her story.

"The cab with my things never got here!"

"Oh my, that is a big problem then, isn't it. Did you give the company a call, perhaps they might know something?"

"Ugh, he was _so _unhelpful. He just kept saying tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow. Like that helps me today!"

"Sweetie, I'm sure you can make due until then," she offered. "Surely you've brought the essentials in your rolling bag."

Silence.

"Oh Amber, don't tell me…"

* * *

Jerome had already settled in at the table when the pair walked in. It was common for him to be the only housemate at Anubis when Amber arrived every year. She had learned rather quickly that it would be best to avoid him during this time, her being his primary prank target until the others arrived.

She pulled out her usual seat at the table, with Mara's chair between them.

"Millington, what's with the heels? This isn't a four star restaurant you know."

She let her head drupe towards him to give him an annoyed glance, the sadness not leaving her face.

"Oh, lighten up. Those of us with a sense of humor would call that a joke. No need to turn the waterworks on."

"Jerome, Amber's having a bad day," Trudy offered gently as she continued onto the kitchen.

"A _terrible _day!" Amber corrected emphatically.

He rolled his eyes and took a sip of his orange juice. A Millington problem was always a non-problem.

"Here, let me guess." He set his glass down and began ticking off on his fingers, "You maxed your credit card, you broke a nail, there's a shortage on lip gloss. Ah! I'll do you one better than that…Daddy won't upgrade your new phone to an even newer one?"

He gave her the biggest fake smile, batting his eyelashes at her. This had earned him another glare.

"Don't even _joke _about those things, Jerome."

He silently mocked her words before stuffing part of a roll into his mouth.

She started again from the beginning of her story. It was presented with full emotion and plenty of hand gestures. Jerome would make faces at the comments he found particularly ridiculous. Only occasionally would she veer off topic before finally getting to the point.

"So wait, you're stuck here without your stuff? _That's_ your big problem?"

"I'm afraid so," she nodded sadly.

He burst out into laughter.

"It isn't funny, Jerome!"

He was nearly wheezing trying to catch his breath, "Oh, but isn't it?" he managed to get out between ragged breaths. "Queen Millington, deprived of her material possessions. I couldn't have thought up a better prank myself! I'd like to shake that driver's hand for a job well done."

"Well I'm glad _you_ like him… _I _think he was terribly unprofessional." Another flick of her hair.

Trudy returned to lay out the rest of their meal. "Amber dear, try not to make a scene when he does arrive tomorrow, please."

Jerome snickered, "She'll be too mortified to been seen in the same outfit to make a scene, Trudes."

Amber whipped her head to face Jerome, eyes as big as saucers. "Are you mad? I can't wear the same dress two days in a row!" He shrugged his shoulders at her. He didn't see how she had a choice and was going to tell her as much but she wouldn't let him get a word in. "And besides, this is _far _too expensive to sleep in!" She realized what she had just said and clapped a hand over her mouth. "Oh Trudy, I haven't got anything to sleep in tonight!"

Trudy faked a sympathetic look for Amber's sake. This wouldn't be an issue with any of the other students.

"Oh Sweetie, I could check the lost and found for you if you'd like?"

She almost knocked over her glass throwing her arms out in protest. "Trudy, I can't wear something from the lost and found! Who knows _who_ those clothes might've belonged to. The people who lost them probably had _no _sense of fashion!"

"Then I don't know what to tell you, Deary."

She picked up an empty bread bowl and backed into the kitchen.

A smirk crept onto Jerome's face which only meant one thing.

"You know Amber…you _could_ just borrow something from me for the night." His eyes were gleaming with mischief. He clutched his vest and continued smugly, "I have incredible style."

"As if I would wear stupid ugly boy clothes Jerome! I mean, hello? And why would I _ever _want to borrow something from you?" She scrunched her face up at the thought.

He shrugged the insult off. This was about rattling her cage, not his. "Right, well it was merely a suggestion that's all. But I must say…that outfit will look _fit _tomorrow covered in wrinkles."

She stabbed angrily at her supper. He knew perfectly well that 'wrinkles' was a dirty word in her vocabulary.

He hurriedly finished the last of his food as Amber continued to fume. Trudy gave him a curious look when he shoved his empty plate at her and retreated to his room.

* * *

"Aww, why does the universe hate me!" Amber exclaimed as Trudy tried to help her scrub the stain out of her dress. She had taken her anger out on her food and it had returned the favor, her silverware betraying her on the way to her mouth. She was now facing a day old, stained, wrinkled outfit tomorrow: Nearly every Amber Millington rule of fashion to be broken in one day.

Jerome entered the common room already dressed for lights out and the commotion immediately caught his attention. Trudy turned as Amber shot him a dirty look through the window and was just in time to stop him from commenting on the situation.

"Jerome. Don't." she said tiredly.

He put his hands up in surrender, clutching a book in one of them, and walked silently to the couch. Trudy waited until he was settled in before returning her attention back to Amber.

"Sweetie, we should get this into the wash before this sets in," she started gently. "This probably won't come out just by hand. Are you positive you don't want me to go get something for you?"

"I'm sure. I'd rather sacrifice my dress," she confirmed morosely.

Trudy tried not to roll her eyes and went back to rubbing at the stain. The motion caught Amber's attention, once again giving her a good look at the size of the damage. She bit her lip and looked out to Jerome. Even with his back turned to her, he still seemed to be taunting her, provoking her. She _really _didn't want to lose one of her favorite dresses, but she certainly didn't want to admit defeat to Jerome either.

After weighing her options once more her fists began to ball up by her sides. She stomped her foot, letting out a cry of frustration and nearly knocking Trudy down from surprise.

"Okay, fine!" she burst out.

Trudy stood back, more confused than ever, "Amber?"

The tall blonde didn't answer. Instead, she straightened her posture, held her head high, and flipped her hair back. One steadying breath later and she was making her way over to Jerome on the couch…arms swinging and lucky heels clicking all the way.

Trudy shook her head, "Teenagers."

She couldn't see from her vantage point, but Jerome had brought his attention up from his book and plastered a satisfied smirk on his face at her outburst. His plan was about to be set into motion. The closer she got, the louder her heels were against the floor. He timed it just right so that he was back to mock reading by the time she had reached him.

She leaned over the back of the couch to his right. "Hey, Jerome!" she faked cheerily.

"Come to take me up on that offer, have we?"

Amber's mouth dropped open before she recovered, "What? Oh, yes. I decided to sacrifice in the name of fashion."

He grinned again, not even bothering to hide it, "I left some things out for you on my bed. Pick whatever you like." He turned a page.

"Um, thank you?…"

She turned to go down the hall, a big smile on her face. She couldn't believe it was just that simple. No begging or pleading with him, no admitting she was wrong. So easy. _Too _easy. Her steps halted.

"Wait, you didn't rig your room did you?"

"Oh, give me a little bit of credit, Amber! Can't a guy just be nice every once in a while?"

"I guess…"

She tiptoed her way down the hallway, hyper aware of her surroundings. Jerome could have been telling the truth. After all, the hallway was not his room and there were plenty of creepy things in it for him to have rigged something on. She jerked her head to the left. _Seriously, what is with that scary looking coffin thingy anyway?_

She breathed out a sigh of relief as she made it safely to his door. She reached out to turn the door knob but snapped her hand back before reaching it. She craned her neck looking for any sign of Jerome watching her, waiting for her to fall to the king of pranks. With the coast clear, she finally turned the knob. Her eyes flew shut and she let out a small squeak as she rushed through the doorway.

Nothing jumped out, tripped her, or fell on her. But when she opened her eyes, her face had fallen into a frown none the less.

Back in the common room, Jerome was basking in a job well done. Amber hadn't come out yelling at him so she must have been desperate enough to choose one of the dreadful things he'd left out for her. He couldn't be sure that the thought of wrinkles would haunt her enough to take the bait, but sweet luck was on his side with that stain. He reached into his lounge pants pocket—no accident they were his nicest pair—and pulled out his phone. He needed it's camera to be ready for the big reveal. He could only imagine what she would look like on those posters…

Amber had walked over to Jerome's bed examining the fabric of a few of the items. She cringed at the feel between her fingers. It felt…cheap. This was much worse to her than rigging the room would have been. Jerome had put together the most horrible combinations out of the most hideous sleep wear he owned. Not even Amber Millington could work magic on these.

"Pick whatever you like Amber," she scoffed. "…_as if_!"

She looked around the room…she hadn't spent much time in here before. Alfie's side looked a little lonely without most of his things but Jerome's side looked organized and well lived in, right down to his wardrobe. A smile crept onto her lips.

_"_Pick _whatever_ you like_," _she repeated.

She dashed over and flung the doors open, searching through all of his clothes looking for something suitable.

Too big.

Too short.

Too _ugly._

Just too…boy-ish.

"Eep, perfect!" she exclaimed as she snatched a particular item off the rack.

She held her choice up to her and examined it in Jerome's full length mirror. The corners of her mouth turned up slightly as she tilted her head to the side and checked its size against her. She tucked her long blonde hair behind one ear and her grin broke out into a full smile.

It really was perfect.

* * *

"Thank you so much Trudes, you're a lifesaver!"

Jerome perked up at the sound of her voice floating in from the kitchen.

"You're welcome, Deary, I'll get this right in the wash for you."

Trudy tapped Amber on the nose, causing a light giggle from the girl. Jerome couldn't take it anymore. He _had _to know which disaster she had chosen. He turned to put his phone in prime position to capture the reveal.

From where he was sitting he could only see the tops of her shoulders gliding across the kitchen. It was enough of her however, to know something was amiss here.

Pink was _not _part of the plan.

He narrowed his eyes, slamming his phone shut. "What have you got on?"

She crossed over into the common room with her heels in her hand and a big grin on her face.

"That wasn't one of the choices!" he gritted through his teeth.

"But you said I could pick whatever I liked, so I did! What do you think?" she rushed happily, stopping briefly to strike a pose.

"That's one of my best tops!"

"_Trust me_. I know. Who knew you'd have something by this designer?"

He gave her another once over just looking for an insult to hurl back at her. His face fell into utter shock when he realized that she had chosen _just _his pink striped shirt.

His brain shut down and he could only gape at the beautiful girl coming towards him.

She had rolled the sleeves up to three quarters, no different from what he might have usually done. But when his eyes trailed up to the collar, he found that leaving the top button open had created quite a different effect on her smaller frame than it did on his.

She was chattering away, seemingly oblivious to his eyes roaming across her collarbone and up to the smooth skin of one shoulder that was slightly exposed by the open collar. All he could think about was the sudden urge to plant soft kisses up her neck.

He quickly dropped his gaze to the floor when she passed him. And at that moment he could not have willed his eyes away from tracing her long legs back up even if he had tried. Jerome was captivated.

He admired the soft curve of her waist as she lifted an arm to flip back her long silky blonde…

His eyes went wide and suddenly he had no problem ripping them away from the girl in front of him.

_Millington?! _He scolded himself. _Really Clarke, was it that long of a holiday?_

He ran his hands down his face, burying it in them in shame. His mind must be playing tricks on him. He hadn't seen a girl on campus in weeks, months even! He was just projecting his thoughts onto Amber. Right?

_Right._

She plopped down onto the opposite end of the other couch, "Jerome, hellooo?"

He lifted his head but couldn't quite meet her eyes. Not that staring at her perfect peachy lips seemed like a better idea to him.

"Were you just ignoring me?" She furrowed her eyebrows, locking her eyes right on him…studying him, "And why do you look so…weird?"

He chanced a brief look into her eyes and tried his best to recover, "I could ask you the same." His voice had cracked on the last word and he was completely disgusted with himself.

"That's not what I meant!" she shifted her position to throw a pillow at him. The action caused the arched side of his shirt to ride up a little higher on her leg. It didn't escape her when his eyes flicked down to the motion and he swallowed hard.

"Oh, I get it," she nodded in understanding.

This only worried him further. "What? Get what?"

"You have a totally understandable crush on me! Awww!"

"Me… Have a crush on you?" He burst out into laughter.

"You don't have to be nervous. I'm totally used to it."

"Seriously," he managed amongst his laughter, "What would _ever_ make you think that?"

"Uh, why _else _would you keep staring at me like some sort of a creep?"

His laughter abruptly stopped, she had caught him staring.

_Nice one mate, way to be subtle._

"Well?"

"I was merely…admiring how well your skin tone goes with that color."

_Wow, Clarke. Understatement of the year._

A smile spilled across her face and he let out the breath he'd been unconsciously holding.

"You're right," she beamed. "This looks _so _much better on me."

_Nope, THAT would be the understatement of the year._

Content with the compliment, she snatched a magazine out from under the couch cushion and dove into its mindless drivel. Jerome gave a confused look but thought better of asking why she had stashed one there. Perhaps reading his own book would take his mind off her.

And so they sat awhile in comfortable silence. Both back in their respective worlds where everything made sense. Her clothes weren't stuck at a cab station somewhere until tomorrow afternoon and he wasn't thinking of how ridiculously hot she looked in his right now.

* * *

"Wow…_interesting_…" Amber mused still scanning over her mindless drivel of a magazine. Her enthusiasm for such nonsense got under Jerome's skin in the worst way.

"Do you mind? _Some_ of us are reading actual literature here."

"But this is so cool, Jerome! Listen, it says here you can read the lines of someone's palms and learn loads of stuff about them!"

"Yours must have an F to represent your grades then…" he mumbled under his breath.

"What?"

"Nothing, I just don't believe in all that crud."

She bounced up from her couch and over to his. He took in a sharp breath at the cloud of her perfume that engulfed him.

"Here, give me your hand…it's really easy! Let me show you how well it works."

"Not a chance, Millington," he snatched it back away.

She wrestled his arm back to her and he sighed in defeat.

"Just. Watch."

She spread his fingers out, gently tracing her thumbs over the lines of his palms. Her face was in a deep concentrated pout and Jerome could feel his heart start to beat faster. He wasn't even watching what she was doing to his hand; he was concentrating on how her eyes would narrow and then her mouth would curl up and back again. Time hadn't squelched his feelings after all.

"Interesting…" her grin broke into a full smile as she leaned in towards him closer.

"W-What!" It felt as if his chest was constricting on his lungs. Amber Millington was literally taking his breath away…this had to be a dream.

"See this line right here?"

He glanced at it and swallowed hard, only managing to nod weakly.

"This tells me you'll be relocating _very_ soon…"

"What do you mean?" His eyes went wide.

"It's ten o'clock! I do not care that classes have yet to resume. You have _five_ minutes…"

Victor's nightly speech had snapped Jerome out of whatever spell Amber had over him. He scoffed, yanking his arm away from the smirking blonde.

"Not bad for an amateur," he snarled, rising to make it back to his room before Victor's second warning.

"Wait! When do you need this shirt back?"

"Keep it," he called over his shoulder before clearing his throat, "Looks better on you anyway, remember?"

She smiled to herself, tucking her hair behind her ear as a light blush rose to her cheeks. Of course she knew that, but it was nice to hear it from him.

"I knew he had a crush on me," she whispered to herself.

* * *

**A/N:** _Another older fic I finished up to publish. I don't know, Amber's S1 shirt always looked more like a guy's shirt to me than a night gown. Thus, Jamber headcanon was born._


End file.
